War Wounds Wand Nickers and Pink Bunnies
by luvscharlie
Summary: After the war, Lavender Brown is desperate for employment and she seeks help from an old boyfriend, but finds her salvation in an entirely different Weasley. George/Lavender


_War Wounds, Wand Nickers and Pink Bunnies_ by Luvscharlie

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Warnings: Sex, slight angst

_A/N: Originally written for the 2009 smutty_claus fest on Live Journal _

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Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes was a buzz of activity; just the way George liked it. Keeping busy was best. Keeping the shop going was the most important thing. It was what he and Fred had worked so hard for, and simply because Fred was no longer with him didn't mean George could let it founder. It wouldn't be right. Fred deserved better than that; Fred would have _expected_ better, and George didn't plan to disappoint, no matter how difficult it was to get up every morning and start this routine over again… particularly if he'd been drinking the night before. And these days, he had always been drinking the night before. Still, this shop had been too important to Fred—to the both of them—for George to just let it die. Enough things George loved had died already. The shop wasn't going on the already too long list of casualties.

George was jarred from his thoughts by the insistent ring of the bell on the counter. He turned around to see a light-haired girl banging on it with her fist. She was bundled into a cloak that was covered in flakes of snow, and George thought there was something familiar about her. Of course, one holiday shopper started to look like the next after you worked retail for a few days. And it was a week until Christmas, so the shop was like a madhouse most of the time.

Her fist banged the bell again, and George walked forward so that she could see him. "Do you always pound on bells when you see them laying about?"

She ignored his jab. "I need to see Ron Weasley. I'm told he works here."

George closed most of the distance between them, propped his hip against the counter and looked at his watch. "Wouldn't mind seeing him myself since he's about two hours late. He keeps this up, chances are he won't be working here by nightfall."

"Then I'll come back when you have an opening. It sounds as though it may be soon. It can't be soon enough from where I'm standing. I need a job… badly."

The girl turned her head, and her scarf slipped down a bit. George's breath caught in recognition… and a bit of horror. He knew who she was now. The scars running from the edge of her cheekbone, over her chin and he suspected down her neck where the scarf provided coverage were unmistakable. War wounds were the norm these days. Most people sported them proudly. Everyone had a story to tell (true or fabricated no longer seemed to make a difference); they all wanted to be known for having been instrumental in the Battle of Hogwarts.

George was there. He'd lost the most precious thing in the world there, and he was quite certain not everyone walking around showing off their wounds had been. He sincerely suspected that Theodore Connell had stabbed himself in the arm with a something sharp and pointy, most probably a stick, but still he walked around proudly showing off his scar where "a Death Eater just about killed me." _Because there are so many vital organs in the arm._ Sheesh. If they were going to tell a story, they might at least try and make it a good one.

But this girl's scars were ones he recognised. They were like Bill's. There was no mistaking the spots where long canines had ripped creamy flesh. Her neck was left puckered and red, no amount of healing could fix scars like that. At least the scars he, himself, carried were internal not out there for all the world to ogle, though it appeared she tried to hide them. "Lavender Brown."

She saw where his eyes had landed and self consciously adjusted her scarf. "I wasn't sure you would recognise me. I mean, sure we both were in Gryffindor, but it's not like we ever had much reason to socialise."

"The first girl to steal my little brother's heart."

Lavender snorted. "More like the first girl to have her heart and feelings stomped on by that insensitive little twit of a brother you have."

George sniggered. She was spunky, not the simpering, clingy little thing Ron had described at all. He found, much to his surprise, that he liked her instantly. There was just something about her that intrigued him.

"Nothing makes me less happy than being here. It's not like I ever intended to call in a favour from Ron Weasley, but desperate times and all that."

George crossed his arms, assessing the situation. "So you came here to ask my little brother for a job?"

Lavender wouldn't meet his eyes, so he thought the next words must have come hard for her. "I'll beg if I have to." The look on her face was one of disgust. If he read her correctly, Lavender Brown wasn't accustomed to begging anyone for anything, and the only thing she might enjoy less than her trip to his shop for an intended meeting with Ron was having her toe nails plucked out one by one.

And George could attest that toe nail plucking hurt… a lot. Fred had been alive. There had been an experiment. It had gone horribly wrong. And he preferred not to think about it anymore. Why did he let his mind wander these days? It always seemed to travel places he'd much prefer it didn't. Reliving that toe nail incident was certainly one of those things.

But anyway…

George found Lavender Brown more intriguing with each passing moment. He assumed it must really be a desperate time for her to come begging to an old boyfriend for employment. As he was contemplating, Ron came breezing in the door.

"You're late."

"Sorry, mate. Hermione and I had a long night." Ron shot him a knowing smile and a wink.

"Oh, spare me," Lavender said with a snort. "If it was a long night, he had his clothes on. It's not as if anything ever took more than ten minutes when he had them off. And ten minutes is being _very_ generous."

She was here for a job and probably tried to hold it in. But George assumed she simply could not… or maybe she was like this all time, which could only mean fun times ahead… at his baby brother's expense. He liked that. He really did.

Ron's mouth fell open. "What are _you_ doing here? And for the record, that's not true." George noted the nervous look Ron threw in his direction. His manhood had been questioned, and he wanted to make sure George noted his exception to Lavender's comment.

George spoke up before Lavender could respond. "She's working. I've hired her."

"You did what?" Ron and Lavender said in unison.

"You came here looking for a job, yeah?"

"Well, yes, but I never expected–" Lavender responded.

"Well, now you have one," George replied. "I need at least one employee who is an actual asset to this shop." He flashed Ron a pointed look. "It'll only be until after the holidays, but I need some help until then."

"I take exception to that, mate," Lee said from the back of the shop where he was logging inventory.

Scoffing, George gave Lee a one finger salute. "You don't count. You only came in to help me do inventory. You aren't out here on the sales floor with all the mad shoppers."

Lee put his hand over his heart as if wounded. "I'm feeling a bit unappreciated. That remark just cost you dinner at the Leaky tonight."

George gave Lavender a wink. "He says that as if he wasn't going to make me buy him dinner anyway. The lousy mooch. Be here on time, first thing tomorrow morning, Miss Brown."

* * *

The week before Christmas was always the busiest time. There were stockings to be stuffed and friends to be pranked, and no better place to come for the equipment for both than the Wheezes. George was glad to have the extra help; Lavender Brown had wandered into his shop at just the right moment.

Lavender came into the shop the next morning right on time, appearing eager to start her first day. George noted that she had a pretty floral scarf around her neck to hide as much of the scars as she could. "What shall I do first… boss?"

George shot her a grin. "A punctual employee. I'd started to think those creatures were nothing more than a myth. As you can see, we're the only two here so far. Those other two slackers probably haven't even rolled over yet. You mind helping me restock some shelves? There was a rush in the Wonder Witch department yesterday."

George nodded his head at some boxes and he and Lavender each grabbed a few and toted them over to the shelves.

"So tell me, Lavender. Did you ever use our fabulous Wonder Witch line when you were back at Hogwarts?"

"Well, I tried some of them in an attempt to mix a love potion once."

"And? Did it work?"

Pausing in her unpacking of a box, Lavender frowned. "It turned my hair purple for days. I had to pretend to be ill so I wouldn't have to leave the infirmary until the effects wore off."

George grimaced. "Yes, well we have improved them since then. Gosh, that's embarrassing. Moving on. Tell me, did you plan to use it on my little brother?"

Lavender refused to meet George's eyes, and he had his answer without her explaining further. "There are some things I don't have to tell you, you know? I'd like to maintain at least some of my dignity, even if it might be difficult after yesterday's meeting; what with me coming in here to beg to be hired."

George held up his hands. "Whoa, you sort of saved me. If you hadn't come in, I'd be stocking these shelves all by myself. I could really use someone who actually works around this place." George moved in behind her and whispered, "And maybe it's just my opinion, but you could do far better than my little brother."

The smile Lavender rewarded him with was well worth the comment. "George Weasley, you're nothing but a big old flirt… but thank you. That was sort of nice to hear."

The chime on the door rang announcing the first customer, and George looked up to see a girl of about fourteen wander in. "I'll go to the back and get some more boxes. If I'm correct—oh, and I'm always correct."

Lavender snorted her disbelief.

"Oi! I am. That witch looks like she'd really like to come over here, which she won't if I'm standing around. Think you can handle her, Brown?"

"Stand back and watch, Weasley."

Lavender continued stocking the shelves and George whispered, "Well, aren't you going to go over and say something to her?"

"No, she'll come to me, if you'll find somewhere else to be. Go to the back like you said you were going to."

"Bossy, bossy." George walked away mumbling, "Her first day and she's already smarting off. She should fit in around here just fine." He walked to the back, but watched from a distance. The young girl approached Lavender with caution and took a jar off the shelf. George's mouth fell open when Lavender shook her head to indicate the girl didn't want to buy that. She was supposed to be selling things, and here she was telling people not to buy the product. George took an Extendable Ear from the shelf and put one end in his ear as the other end inched toward Lavender Brown and the girl.

"You don't want to buy that one," he heard Lavender say. "Sure, it works, but only for a short time. And you really don't want to run out when you're back at school, right?" Lavender took a large box from the shelf. "Now, with this box, you should have enough of a supply to get you through until the Easter holidays when you can come back and restock."

The girl nodded her head and took the box from Lavender's hand. George had expected the girl to possibly spend ten Sickles, tops, on a love potion. Lavender had talked her into buying something that cost thirty Galleons.

George had to admit that not even Fred had been that kind of salesman. Lavender Brown's first day was proving to be quite a success. When the girl left, George made his way over to Lavender. "So, what'd she buy? Let me guess, a love potion. Girls that age always want a love potion."

"Hmph. Shows what you know. I sold her some blemish remover."

"I didn't notice that she had acne."

"She didn't." Lavender grinned. "She's got a big hairy mole on her bum."

George pondered this. "But the blemish remover doesn't cure moles… and ewwww."

Lavender giggled. "No, but it does diminish them, and your mole remover is far too inexpensive. Besides when she comes back at Easter to restock, you can tell her you've invented a brand new mole remover that should take care of her problem right away."

"I like the way your brain works, Brown. You're sort of evil. I can respect that."

"I'm a selling machine, George Weasley. I plan to empty your shelves by Christmas Day. Before I'm done, you'll wonder how you ever survived without me."

She said it with such confidence that George didn't doubt her for a second.

* * *

The days passed, and George was amazed at how well Lavender fit into the slot that Verity had vacated when she—well, he didn't like to think about yet another of the people the War had removed from his life—it led to thoughts of Fred, and that led to days of sulking and moodiness… even more so than usual. Fred and Verity were gone; both lost at that final battle. There was no use rehashing it; it served little purpose.

Besides it was Christmas Eve, and the shop was swarming with last minute shoppers and he needed to be on his feet and moving around the shop. No time for sulking.

He'd spent the day watching Lavender Brown. Who was he kidding? He'd spent the last several days doing nothing but watching her. She was… for lack of a better word, enchanting. We would be willing to wager all he had that girl could sell a glass of water to a Mermaid.

The day passed by in a frenzy, and they were all dead on their feet by closing time.

"Mum's probably having kittens by now. She wasn't happy George kept the shop open on Christmas Eve," Ron said.

George caught the tail end of Ron and Hermione's conversation when he walked up. His mum was certainly unhappy that he'd chosen to keep the shop open, but there were last minute gifts that needed buying, right? He chose to think of it in those terms rather than to deal with the fact that the longer the shop stayed open, the less time he had to deal with the holidays and what was undeniably missing from them. He had no desire to go to the Burrow and pretend that things were all okay. Nothing had been okay since that horrible day last May. Sure, Voldemort was gone, but sometimes George wondered if the cost had simply been too high… at least, for him.

"Where's Lavender? I have a bonus to give her. I'm sort of going to miss having her around after the holidays." George held up a bag of coins and looked around in a futile attempt to locate his newest employee.

He turned back around to see his brother's mouth hanging open. "A BONUS? She gets a bonus? Where's mine?"

"First of all, shut your gob before a fairy flies in and bites your tongue. Secondly, bonuses are for people who actually work. Not for people who stand around with that talking contraption Hermione bought for them and pretend to be carrying on a conversation because they're _so_ important. Lavender really picked up the slack around here the past week. Besides, I've already given Lee his bonus."

"Lee got one too!"

Hermione's hands were on her hips when she turned toward Ron. "Tell me you didn't do that."

"I didn't… er, do what?" Ron's head dropped as though something on the floor was so captivating he simply couldn't bear to turn away from it.

George wasn't about to let him get by that easily. "Of course, he didn't. Maybe I'm misunderstanding. I'm sure Hermione could set me straight. When you're talking on that little—what's it called again?"

"It's called a mobile phone," Hermione replied, turning her gaze on Ron once more. "And it's for _emergencies_ and it's only meant to be used to call _me_."

"Yes, a mobile phone, that's it. I could be mistaken and all, but I don't think it's supposed to make that ringing noise when someone's talking on it, right?"

Hermione turned full body this time, facing Ron. "Let me get this straight. You were pretending to talk on the phone to appear important to—who? Might I ask that? It had better not be Lavender Brown!" She never gave Ron a chance to reply. She continued speaking without taking a breath. "And in the middle of this demonstration your phone actually rang. And the question I'm really just _dying_ to know is who was that on the other end of that ringing phone? That phone was for _us_ to talk on- _only_ us, so I didn't go losing you when we were out shopping or in case I needed you to bring something over on your way from the shop. I've never met someone who vanishes faster when shopping than you and you're ever so forgetful. The phone was to remind you of all those things you were destined to forget, and owls are just so slow to carry messages. And now, you've gone and given out the number—can't imagine to who, since you don't know any Muggles who actually use phones—or do you? Are you seeing someone else? That's what it is, isn't it? You're seeing a Muggle girl. How could you, Ron Weasley?"

By this time Ron was flapping his arms in an attempt to calm her down… or to fly, George couldn't be sure which, but with flapping like that, either scenario might be equally plausible. "What? Don't be ridiculous. Of course I'm not seeing someone else."

"Then who's calling you?"

Ron leaned in to whisper, but George leaned in too. He didn't plan on missing any of this. "Can we talk about this later, Hermione?"

"No, we cannot! Who was it?"

Scuffing his shoe and refusing to meet her eyes, Ron muttered, "It was a wrong number, okay?"

Crossing his arms over his chest and curbing a smile, George couldn't contain the urge to comment. "War hero and all that. You're just Mr. Popularity these days, Ronnie."

"Shut it."

"Anyway, back to my original question." George held up the bag of coins once more. "Where's Lavender?"

"She left about a half hour ago," Ron replied.

"Well it is Christmas Eve and all. Her family was probably expecting her. Honestly, I probably shouldn't have kept her…" George's voice trailed off at the look of shock on both Ron and Hermione's faces. "What? What'd I say?"

Hermione looked sympathetic when she answered. "I guess there's no reason you'd know, but Lavender's parents were killed during the war."

"Oh, but she's probably got brothers and sisters to go home to, right?" George attributed this belief to being a Weasley. The idea that someone might not have siblings was a bit foreign to him, but Hermione shook her head to indicate that Lavender had no such relations.

"Lavender lives in my building," Hermione said. "I'm relatively certain she's alone and rumour is that if she doesn't catch up her rent, they're going to evict her."

George could have smacked himself. It all made sense now. That's why she'd needed the job so desperately. She had no one to fall back on when times were tough, no family to turn to. He ached for the loss of Fred, but he wasn't alone; couldn't imagine being alone. He had his family to turn to… not that he did it all that often. He spent most of his time feeling sorry for himself with a bottle of Firewhisky in his hand.

"Lives in your building, you say, Hermione? Do you happen to know her flat number?" George reached into the cash register as he was speaking and took out another hand full of Galleons and added it to the bag he'd already planned to give Lavender.

"What the hell did she do to earn a bonus like—"

Hermione's hand covered Ron's mouth before he could complete the question and she leaned forward, took a self-inking quill from a cup on the counter and jotted down the address to her flat. "I'm fairly certain she's on the second floor, though I'm not sure which flat is hers… and in case you might be wondering, as I came in it appeared the Leaky Cauldron was still open for takeaway orders."

Hermione had removed her hand from Ron's mouth… mistakenly.

"But Mum's got dinner all made. We're due there in an hour."

"Give Mum my apologies, but I don't think I'll make dinner," George said, saying a silent thank you. He had dreaded having to face the holidays without Fred at his side, to see his Mum's tears when she looked at Fred's empty chair at the dinner table. George had no desire to be in a room filled with family… and that too painful void. The empty chair only emphasized what was missing. He oftentimes found himself wishing someone would just take the chair away. It might not hurt so bad if he didn't have to see the chair empty.

Hermione spoke up before Ron could protest. George knew what Ron was going to say anyway. That this wasn't the time to go abandoning family and that Mum needed him there. Sometimes George thought Ron could do with remembering how much being at the Burrow without Fred hurt him too. "We'll make sure to tell your mother where you are. It's a good thing you're doing, you know."

He knew. He just wasn't sure he was doing it for Lavender. He had the sneaking suspicion this act of nobility was more self-serving than he wanted to admit.

* * *

With takeaway boxes tucked under one arm, George rapped on the door to flat 2C.

Lavender's voice carried out through the door. "Good heavens, Mr. Wollanowski, what do you want this time? I turned the wireless down, you grumpy old coot. And I said I'd get you the rent. You're just going to have to give me a little more time. It's Christmas for Merlin's sake. Have a—" Lavender jumped back when she opened the door. "Oh! George, I thought you were—well, it doesn't really matter what I—what are you doing here?" She flushed and a dimple played in and out of her left cheek. It was somewhat contagious and George found himself grinning at her. She was dressed in the same clothes she'd worn to work that day. A black skirt that came to just above her knee and a pretty pink jumper, with a floral scarf tucked into the neck. Her toes were bare, and George noted that they were polished to match her sweater.

George grinned wider at how she grew more flustered under the weight of his stare. "I was trying to find you. And just so you know, it was no easy feat. That crazy old bird down the hall hit me with her cane."

"Where did she hit you?" Lavender asked, covering a widening smile with her hand.

"Right on the rear. I just asked if she might direct me towards your flat, and before I knew what had happened, she had clubbed me right across my behind with her big old cane—old bird's got some power behind that left arm of hers too! Tried to feel me up too; she's got more hands than the giant squid has tentacles! I nearly dropped the takeaway I was so surprised." George nodded his chin toward the boxes under his arm, and waited for Lavender to invite him in.

She simply stood there grinning.

"And, by the way, these boxes are getting a little heavy."

Covering her hands with her mouth, Lavender jumped into motion. "Oh, George! I'm sorry. I don't know where my manners are today. Come in." Lavender stepped aside and motioned him in. "Whapped you in the rear, huh? Lucky for you, she fancies gingers. Otherwise, Ms. Filch would have aimed for your knees. And she says she doesn't see so well these days, but she's got a wicked aim, so I don't much believe her."

"Ms. _Filch_! Is she any relation to _THE_ Filch?"

"Well, I can't be certain. But given her pleasant demeanour, I'm not ruling it out."

"Yeah, sounds like a smart idea. Mental old bat. Someone needs to tie a sign around her neck to warn people off."

"Someone did that once. Magicked it on for about a week, and I probably shouldn't tell you what she did to his… well, we'll leave it at that."

He apparently should count himself lucky for having escaped with only a tap on the bum and an attempted fondling. George sucked in a breath and held up a hand. "I do not want to know."

Lavender closed the door, backed up and leaned against it. There was an awkward silence that grew between them. Every time George opened his mouth to speak, he stammered. Lavender recovered her voice first.

"What are you doing here, George?"

George was still holding the boxes of takeaway, and there was a bottle of red wine tucked under his other arm. He motioned towards them with his chin. "Bringing you dinner."

"Yes, because you've done that so many times before." Lavender's voice reflected her disbelief that bringing her dinner was his true reason for coming by her flat.

"Oh, wait. Here, hold these." George shuffled the boxes into Lavender's arms. They teetered and wobbled as she carried them over to the kitchen counter and set them down. George fished into his cloak and brought out the bag of coins. "Christmas bonus."

Lavender held up her hands and backed away as George approached with the bag. He hadn't expected that kind of response. She needed the money. She'd confirmed everything Hermione had told him when she answered the door. Rent was late, and there were no holiday decorations in the flat. Money was tight for her, and he didn't doubt that she was headed for the streets if things didn't turn around soon.

"I don't take charity, so you can just put that right back in your pocket, George Weasley."

George shook his head, continuing to close the distance between them. "This is not charity. It's a bonus. You really helped me out. You earned this money."

"Did Ron get a bonus?"

George splayed his hands in frustration. "Ron's a lousy employee!"

"Okay, well, I'll give you that," Lavender conceded.

"But Lee got a bonus. Good employees get bonuses. This is not charity."

She reached out a trembling hand to take the bag. "Well, if Lee got one then I guess it's okay." Lavender jerked back her hand. "If I find out you're telling a great big fib about giving Lee a bonus—"

Dropping the bag of coins into her hand, George drew an 'x' over his heart with his finger. "I swear I am telling the truth. Cross my heart." He left out the part about her bonus being substantially more than Lee's. No reason to go telling everything.

"Did Lee get takeaway as well?" Lavender asked as she pulled out plates, napkins and forks, hauling them all over to the coffee table, since the spot where her dinette set should be was empty. George followed suit, bringing over the boxes of food.

"Well, Lee's a bit of a messy eater. He belches, drools and slurps. Terribly uncouth. Thought I'd give you a go. Of course, the first burp I hear from you, Miss Brown, and I'm leaving. You've been warned."

Smiling brightly, Lavender replied, "I'll do my best to control myself."

"Good to hear, 'cause I'm hungry. And nothing hits the spot like Tom's Bangers and Mash." George reached for a box, but Lavender's hand covered it first.

"Except maybe the meal your mother's been slaving over all day. What _are_ you doing here, George? I mean _really_ doing here. I'm not a charity case. You don't have to spend Christmas with the poor little orphan girl. I'm assuming someone told you or you wouldn't be here, right?"

He was caught off guard and somewhat afraid she was about to make him leave. The fact was the very last place he wanted to be was at the Burrow with his never to again be complete family. His mum would cry; his siblings would look at him as the remaining half of what would never again be whole, and he wasn't sure he was strong enough to handle that. At least here with Lavender, he didn't have to be a Weasley twin; he could simply be George.

He cleared his throat and started to speak. "I reckon I started out coming here for that reason. I'm not sure I realised then how much I didn't want to be at the Burrow with my incomplete family. I don't think I can stand my mum's tears tonight. It's hard enough to get through the day-to-day stuff. Holidays—I guess I'm just not ready to face those yet." He lowered his head. "But look, I am sorry I intruded on your evening. I'll just go and—"

"Not before I beat your sorry tail at Wizard's Chess, you aren't. Besides I can't go having it on my conscience if you start down the hall and old Ms. Filch decides to attack you with her cane, can I? I doubt Father Christmas would look kindly upon that. And you brought all this food. Whatever would I do with it all if you left before we ate?" Her tone softened, going from teasing to serious when she said, "Don't go."

George breathed a sigh of relief. Maybe _he_ was the charity case, but at least Lavender seemed in the mood to be charitable. "You don't seriously think you're going to beat me at Wizard's Chess, do you, Brown?"

"Eat up, Weasley! Before I wipe the floor with your sorry arse!"

* * *

Three games later and George's mouth was hanging open as he scratched his chin and looked at the chess board. "How in Merlin's name do you keep doing that?"

"Skill. Nothing but skill, Weasley. Anybody ever told you that you suck at this game?"

"You beat me three games to none… you can never tell a soul, you realise that, right? I'll swear you cheated."

"I did no such thing!"

Scratching his head before retiring to the sofa, George turned and motioned that she should follow. "Well, you know that, and I know that, but I'm right determined no one else discovers it. Don't force me to fire you, Brown?" George held his breath and waited for a response as he poured two glasses of wine and passed one over to her. "Maybe if I get you pissed, I'll stand a chance of beating you later."

Lavender's eyes widened visibly. "Don't count on it. I'd still trounce you three sheets to the wind. And what do you mean fire me? My job was just through the holidays."

"First of all, that hurts." George held a hand to his heart as though wounded. "That last game, I almost had you. I'm quite certain that when I turned my back, you moved my queen." Lavender opened her mouth to protest, but George held up a hand. "Now about your continued employment at the Wheezes…"

Lavender closed her still agape mouth and resigned herself to listen as she sat down beside George on the sofa. "Look, Ronnie was never meant to stay on full-time. He only came on because he felt like he should. With—" George gulped, but carried on. "Well, with Fred gone, I reckon, it was a good idea that he came on and stayed in Fred's room because me being alone—well… anyway, Ron's always wanted to be an Auror, and Kingsley's been holding a spot for him. If he starts next month, he'll finish the Academy six months after Harry. He does a lousy job at the shop because he's not happy there. But you—" George motioned at Lavender. "You're a natural. Customers love you. There's nothing you can't sell, and frankly, I think our female customers need a woman to ask things that they don't necessarily feel comfortable asking me." George sighed. "I guess what I'm saying is, if you would consider staying on, the job is yours."

"You're firing your brother?" A grin broke out across Lavender's face. "It's really awful of me to take pleasure in this, isn't it? Though he does sort of deserve it."

George returned the grin. "He was five hours late for work twice this week. He's lucky I didn't throw him out into the snow on his freckled tail!"

Lavender began to giggle. "Or you could have slipped him a drop of Divine Dragon Potion and had him grow a tail. That would be much more inventive, and definitely more your style."

"See, that's what I'm talking about. You have an enterprising mind, Lavender Brown. You're a perfect fit for the Wheezes."

Lavender stopped grinning immediately, and George worried that he'd said something wrong. "No one's ever said that to me before. And the funny thing is I actually think you mean it. I was always the pretty one at school. No one ever complimented my mind. Thank you."

"I don't give out compliments freely. If I don't mean it, I don't say it. Well, unless I'm pranking you, which I happen to not be doing at the moment. You know, unless you tell anyone about those chess games I lost. If you do that, then I take it all back." George winked at her in jest. "So you'll take the job?"

"I will." Lavender put the wineglass to her lips and drained it. Her tongue flicked over her bottom lip and George felt his trousers tighten. She was a beautiful woman, and during his days of grieving and boozing, he'd shared his bed with many females, mostly in an attempt to forget, even for a little while. But Lavender was different. She was more than just a body to bury his sorrows in for an hour or two. He actually liked her. There was something about her, something he couldn't quite put his finger on, but something that certainly captivated him. And more surprising than all that was that he found the wine wasn't needed to endure her company. It was pleasant being with her, comfortable in an odd sort of way.

Lavender snapped her fingers in front of George's face and he started.

"So you are still in there." Lavender was holding the bottle of wine. "I was refilling my glass and asked if you wanted a refill as well, but you sort of zoned out. Look, George, I really appreciate you coming here tonight, but if you're thinking about your family and you'd like to be there, I completely understand. You should go."

George simply smiled and offered up his glass for a refill. "Unless you're kicking me out, I think I'd like to stay."

Lavender's hand shook as she refilled his glass, and then it was like he watched the whole thing happen in slow motion. The bottle wobbled as Lavender's hand slipped and it crashed onto George's lap spilling the wine and soaking his trousers.

"OH! I'm so sorry. George, I'm such a clumsy thing sometimes. The bottle. It just slipped. And now I'm prattling. Don't move! I'll get a towel." She wrung her hands as her feet moved into action.

There was a big red wine puddle in George's lap. Lavender rushed forward with a towel, pressing it against the front of his trousers. He felt himself start to harden as her hands moved over him. Apparently, Lavender felt it too.

"Oh!" she shrieked, and dropped the towel. "Um, well. I guess—um, you can take it from here." She inched away from him blushing.

"It's okay. I'll just Apparate home and get some different trousers and I'll be back in a flash. I mean, if that's still okay with you?"

"Sure. Of course… it's fine." Lavender continued wringing her hands, perhaps to keep from doing anything else with them, as her cheeks flushed rosily and she tried not to meet his eyes. George thought she was adorable when she was flustered.

"You sure about that? You don't look too certain."

"What?" she said, attempting to still her hands. "Of course, I'm sure. Don't be ridiculous."

George reached for his back pocket and began patting himself in vain and looking around the sofa and on the floor.

"What's wrong?" Lavender inquired.

"My wand is missing."

"Oh no! She's done it again."

George looked up to find Lavender's hands had stilled and he thought he noted a hint of a smile teasing at her lips. "Who's done what again?" he asked.

"Um, well. Now, don't be angry. Ms. Filch is an old woman and she gets a little—well, a little out of hand sometimes. Of course, I guess from the feeling up she gave you earlier, you'd worked that much out. The Ministry took her wand away years ago for behaviour unbecoming a lady."

"Behaviour unbecoming a lady? What the hell did she do?"

"Oh, it wasn't all that serious. St. Mungo's was able to put the men right again… eventually… well, most of them anyway."

George started towards the door.

"Where are you going?"

"To get my wand back."

"Yeah, you don't want to do that, George. The last person who went back to retrieve a wand she snatched is still at St. Mungo's, with his you-know-what not in proper working order. If you wait until tomorrow, her son will come to visit her for Christmas Dinner and I can go down and ask him to return your wand. Maybe you should just Floo back to your flat above the shop to get a change of clothes."

"I can't. The Floo's closed down after hours to keep people from sneaking in and nicking products."

"Even you can't get in?"

George shook his head. "Okay, in hindsight, it's not the best security system, but typically I have my wand so it's not an issue."

Lavender was beginning to grin. "Well, I only see one option then." She raised her wand and pointed it towards George's crotch, and he quickly ran around to the other side of the sofa.

"Oh no, you don't. I have a personal policy against letting any bird aim a wand at my crotch. The last time that happened…"

"Oh, this is a story I can't wait to hear." Lavender crossed her arms and waited for George to continue.

George clamped his lips tight. "I don't think you need to hear anymore. I've said too much already."

Lavender grinned at his predicament. "Well, since you don't trust my wand work, I only see one other alternative besides you continuing the evening in wet trousers or finishing the evening at the Burrow, in which case I'm going with you because I want to hear you explain this to your mother."

"Ha, ha. Very funny. Your solution? You know, the one that doesn't involve my mother."

"Take off your trousers and pants."

George leered and winked. "Why Brown, I didn't know you were so eager to get me starkers."

Rolling her eyes, Lavender pointed toward the bedroom. "In there, you. My robe's hanging on the back of the door. You can wear that until I get your clothes dry."

* * *

George tossed his wine-soaked trousers and pants out the bedroom door into the hallway. "Well," Lavender called. "Come on out. This stain's set in. It's going to take some soaking before it will come out. A simple _Scourgify_ isn't going to help this."

"I'm not coming out."

"Oh, stop being a baby and come out here. You can't stay in my room forever."

"Your robe has pink bunnies on it. I refuse to come out wearing pink bunnies."

"You're being ridiculous. You know that, right? I'm the only one here. It's not as if your brothers are going to see you wearing pink bunnies," Lavender said through the door.

"Thank Merlin for that. Do you promise not to laugh at me?" George called back.

"Oh, the King of Pranks can't stand to be laughed at? That's rich. You're just full of surprises tonight, aren't you?"

"That's it. I'm never coming out."

"Okay, okay. I promise. I will not laugh at you. Come on out, it's still early and the wine bottle's refilled itself," Lavender said. "While your clothes are soaking, we can listen to the wireless."

"That sounds good and all, but there's one condition to my coming out of this room. Whatever happens in this flat tonight never leaves this flat."

Lavender giggled from outside the door. "Deal."

George opened the door slowly and noted that Lavender bit down on her lower lip at the sight of him. "Oh, just go ahead and get it out of your system."

Lavender's lip began to tremble and the giggles rushed forth. "You know," she said between giggles, "there are matching slippers beside the bed."

"Ha, ha. Are you done now?"

"I think so." She put up her hand to stifle any more laughter and walked across the room and switched on the wireless. It was one of the few unnecessary items that still remained in her flat. George suspected that many of her items had been sold in order to keep a roof over her head.

"I'm glad to hear it because I really need more wine." George made his way back to the sofa and poured himself a glass of wine, drained it and poured another. "I'm glad I thought to buy the bottle that automatically refills itself."

"From what I hear, you never go anywhere these days where the spirits might not flow freely. Jesus, did I just say that aloud?" Lavender was standing beside the sofa and she covered her mouth. "I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

George reached up and took her hand then pulled her down beside him on the sofa. "You've seen me in pink bunnies. I think it's fair to say you can speak freely tonight. Besides, it's not as if everyone isn't talking about that 'Weasley twin that didn't die' who's left drinking himself into a stupor every night. I'm not sure most of the people talking even know which twin I am, but I've heard the whispers."

"And?"

George took another swig of wine. "And the rumours are true. I'm pretty sure you've smelled the Firewhisky on me at least one day, I suspect more than one, when we've worked together."

Lavender folded her hands around her own wine glass, but didn't respond.

"It's okay. You don't have to say anything. I know it's true. So how do you do it, Brown? What gets you through the days? I haven't smelled booze on you when you've been in the shop working, though that perfume you wear is nice."

Her cheeks blushed prettily, and George wasn't sure if it was the wine she had consumed or a reaction to being close to him. Then she turned serious as George drained half his glass. "I go on because there's no other alternative, is there? I mean I could curl up here and allow the misery to take over, but I guess that seems to me like a disgrace to the memory of my parents. They died so things could be better, and I don't think they'd appreciate me squandering that opportunity." She seemed to be contemplating whether or not she should say what she was thinking. "But I think it's worse for you, and I'm sorry about that, George."

That took him by surprise. He had family members (far too many family members some days) who were there to lean on, if he ever decided to let them in. Lavender had no one. "How do you figure I have it worse?"

"Well, it's just that we all grow up expecting our parents to die before we do. Not that I expected mine to go when they did, but still, I guess you never think about losing a brother your same age. It's unexpected, unfair. I mean I'm not a twin, but my best friend growing up was, and I can't imagine Parvati without Padma or vice versa. It must seem like a part of your self is missing, like you're never truly complete."

George clamped his lips shut. There was no description for how he felt. He'd stopped trying to ascribe a word or a category to the feeling several months ago. Still, it surprised him that Lavender seemed to understand him, or at least she tried to understand. She didn't do it in a pushy way or ask him to tell her how he felt. Oh, how he was tired of being asked how he felt. She simply laid out before him how she perceived his grief; nothing more, nothing less. There was no pressure to answer her, to deny or confirm her beliefs.

When he didn't answer, Lavender cleared her throat and stood. "It's getting cold in here. I'll light a fire in the fireplace."

George watched the gentle sway of Lavender's hips as she rounded the coffee table and aimed her wand at the fireplace. She came back around to join him on the sofa and stumbled. It was instinct to reach and catch her when she lost her balance, but the warmth of her skin caught him by surprise as his arm encircled her waist, his hand sliding beneath her jumper to touch the smooth skin of her back.

"I'm sorry," she said, pulling away quickly and moving to sit beside him, her balance regained.

She looked flustered, on edge and George liked the way it made her blush. She was pretty and friendly, smart and funny, and most importantly she never looked at George with pity in her eyes. Maybe it was that lack of pity that spurred George into motion, or maybe it was the three times the wine bottle had refilled itself that removed all inhibitions, but he leaned forward and grasped her chin. Then his lips were on hers, moving over her mouth with tenderness, a tentative touching of lips on lips, warm and soft.

They broke apart and her eyes were wide.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to—"

Pressing a finger to his lips, Lavender smiled. "Shh. You just surprised me." She clasped George's face between her hands.

"What are you doing? Lavender, this is a bad idea. I don't know what came over me. We've both had too much to drink. We're—"

Her mouth closed over his mid-word. Her tongue licked at his lips, begging entrance, and against his better judgment he relented as her hands slid from his face to his hair. She was his employee. He needed to stop this before it went any farther. Then her tongue touched his, warmth spread through his belly, and his hands seemed to take on a life of their own, fingers combing through her hair, stroking her face. He was desperate for breath when the kiss ended, and Lavender's chest was heaving in a way that begged to be touched as she sucked in air.

George did his best to regain control, holding Lavender back with his hands on her shoulders (hands which very much wanted to be roaming over her body in exploration). "I don't want to take advantage. We've been drinking and—"

Her giggle broke his concentration.

"You think this is funny?"

"You're wearing a robe covered in pink bunnies, and you actually think _you're_ in a position to take advantage of _me_?"

George pulled a face when he looked down at the robe. "Okay, I can't argue that I'm not at my most dashing tonight, but you've had a lot to drink and I don't want to—"

Lavender put her hand to his chest, clutching her fingers into the fluffy robe. "I'm not that pissed. I've dumped my last three drinks into the plant on the side of the sofa."

"What? Why?"

"I see no reason to match you drink for drink, but I also don't want you to feel bad for drinking what you need to get you through the night."

"My drinking doesn't bother you then?" George was pressed back against the sofa as Lavender threw a leg over and straddled his lap.

"You'll move past it. We all cope in our own way."

George fingered the scarf at her neck that covered her scars. "And someday will you put this aside, as well?"

Her lashes fluttered at the question and there was apprehension in her face. George tilted his chin at the wine bottle on the coffee table. "Maybe it's time we both moved forward, huh?" His hand stroked down the soft scarf. "May I?"

Her eyes teared up, but she breathed deep and gathered her courage. She nodded and George pulled the scarf free from her jumper collar and tossed it aside. It fluttered and covered the bottle of wine when it landed. The scars were hideous, red and angry, marring the otherwise perfect skin of her neck and disappearing beneath her jumper. George was careful not to let his face show any reaction. It had taken a lot of courage for her to bare her scars for him and he wasn't about to make her regret that decision. His fingers ghosted over the angry welts gently. "You're a braver than me, you know that? I was sort of counting on you not showing me, so I could have my bottle back." He smiled at her and her laugh caught on the tears swelling her throat. His fingers traced the scars up behind her ear, and his hand clamped down on the back of her neck pulling her lips down to him. He kissed her deeply, putting everything into kissing away her pain.

She moaned into his mouth, her hands pushing aside the robe. "Not that this isn't a brilliant fashion statement," she gasped between kisses, "but I think I'd like to see what you have hiding beneath the bunnies." Her hips ground down as her hands traced their way over his chest, her fingers playing over his nipples and down the dips and ridges of his ribs.

"Seems only fair, that if I show you mine, you should show me yours." George tugged at her jumper, but Lavender batted away his hands and pulled it over her head tossing it aside. The scars ran from her neck down her chest stopping just above the swell of her breast. "I wish I'd killed the bastard that did this to you." His fingers traced down the worst scar and slipped beneath the strap of her bra, sliding it off her shoulder.

At his words a tear slipped from her eye and down her cheek. George pulled her to him, flicking his tongue out quickly to catch it and licking his way down to tease at her lips. "No tears. I don't think I can stand it if you cry."

"I don't want to cry. I'm tired of hurting. The job you gave me, this time with you tonight—well, it's the first really good thing that's happened to me in such a long time. I guess I don't know how to act."

George's hand reached behind her and unhooked her bra, pulling the material away and allowing her ample breasts to fall free. "You don't have to act with me. No pretending." He palmed her breasts and she arched her back into his touch, pressing hard against his palms.

He felt her nipples harden beneath his hands, and she groaned her appreciation as he began to knead the soft flesh, rolling her nipples between his fingers until they stood in hard points. The fabric of the robe he wore was drifting farther and farther apart as Lavender squirmed on his lap, and her position astride him was pressing his erection against her damp knickers. "Come here," he said, pulling her hard against his chest.

She squealed her surprise as George lifted her to him and with an agile spin, laid her down on the sofa. He stood above her for a moment and took her in, his eyes devouring her as he shirked the robe and dropped it to the floor.

"Not everyone could pull off looking sexy in pink bunnies, but I have to admit, I think I like you better out of them," Lavender teased, reaching out to rub her hand over his bare thigh. Pulling away from him, she rubbed her hands over her breasts making George's pulse race with excitement. Lavender rolled her nipples between her fingers and he soaked in the sight as she moved from her nipples sliding her hands palms down over the flat expanse of her stomach as George admired her curves. Lavender was soft and curvy in all the right places, and George swallowed over a lump in his throat as she pulled down the zip on her skirt. "You think you could help me out here?" Her eyes were heavy lidded with lust and George took over tugging the skirt down, taking her knickers with it, as she lifted her hips to accommodate him.

"You're gorgeous, you know that?"

Lavender snorted. "You're drunk and you're randy." She reached out to him and he took her hand and allowed her to pull him to her, stretching out beside her, his naked body flush to hers.

"It takes a lot more than what we drank tonight to get me drunk. On the second count, however, I am completely guilty." George kissed her, his hand travelling over her soft skin, teasing over the swell of her breast, pinching her nipples so that she drew in her breath between her teeth.

"Merlin, you do know what you're doing with your hands," she gasped, as George tweaked her nipple.

"I like to think so." George's hand travelled down her hip, slowly teasing as she squirmed against him.

"I want you, George."

George grinned, then she ground her body against him and his grin turned quickly into a moan. He wanted to stretch this out, take his time with her, but when she pressed herself against him all he could think about was how much he wanted to be inside her. "If you do that again, this isn't going to last very long."

George rolled her beneath him, and closed his lips over her nipple. Her hands clenched his head, burying into his hair as she held him close to her, moaning when he twirled his tongue, applying gentle suction. Lavender slid her hand between them and began to stroke him. Her fingers encircled him guiding him to her entrance.

Wrapping her leg around him, Lavender opened herself to him, gasping as he slid into the warm heat of her body. He kissed her as he set a rhythm and she met him stroke for stroke, sliding her hand between them and teasing her clit. Her breaths came in short pants. "So close," she whispered.

George kissed her neck, his tongue sliding over the puckered and scarred skin, kissing his way up to nibble at her ear, his strokes picking up speed, as he felt her hand move more quickly between them. He brushed her hand away and replaced it with his own, pinching her clit between his fingers. "I've got you. Let go and come for me, baby."

Lavender drug her nails across his back and sank her teeth into his shoulder as her body shook beneath him, tightening around him as her orgasm pulled him over the brink of his own climax. He rode out his orgasm clutching her to him, burying his face in the nape of her neck, and whispering words he couldn't recall and which he felt fairly certain only came out as gibberish.

Their breathing slowed as Lavender stroked his hair. "I planned for that to last longer. Tell me I at least beat my brother's ten minute record."

Lavender laughed beneath him. "Well, I wasn't timing you, but if you're worried about your reputation, you have the rest of the night to prove yourself."

George rolled off of her and stood, reaching down a hand to help her to her feet. "Your bed looked much more comfortable than this sofa, and when I was in there changing into this robe, I just happened to paw through your underwear drawer. You think you might wear that little pink lacy thing before the night ends?"

"You're terrible, George Weasley!"

"That, my dear, I do not deny."

* * *

George started the coffee brewing and leaned against the door frame to Lavender's bedroom, watching her sleep for a while before he went and sat beside her. He shook her shoulder and she rolled away mumbling.

"Rise and shine, sleeping beauty. We're late for breakfast."

"Whuh?" Lavender shook her head, swiping at her eyes as she came awake, and raising up to look at him. "I'm sorry, George, but before you came over last night I really didn't have any money to go to the market. I think the cupboards are pretty bare."

"I wasn't talking about eating here. I managed to get away from my mother last night, but she'll never speak to me again if I don't show up this morning. It's Christmas Day, after all." He wasn't sure what to make of the look of disappointment on Lavender's face. "Well, she'll probably speak to me, but I'm not sure I want to press my luck. Making a Weasley woman angry isn't the best way to start a day, you know."

Lavender ran her hand over the knee of his trousers. "You managed to get your wand back, I guess, since you're dressed."

"Well the sight of me in the bunny robe surprised the old girl down the hall so much that she just handed it over… then winked at me, but I'm trying to block that part out. Now come on, get moving or all the bacon will be gone."

"George," Lavender said, looking down at the blanket rather than at him. "It was really kind of you to spend last night with me. I mean—" She sighed and flopped back on the pillow. "It was nice, but you should spend today with your family. You don't owe me any explanation. I'm glad you didn't just take off without telling me, but—"

George cut her off by kissing her, rolling atop her and pressing her back into the mattress. The kiss was long and deep, sloppy and wet, and his trousers tightened at the feel of her soft body beneath him.

"That was one hell of a goodbye kiss, Weasley."

"A goodbye kiss? What are you talking about? That was a 'get your lazy arse up and get dressed' kiss. Otherwise, I'm likely to shed my clothes and crawl back into this bed with you, and then we're _really_ going to be late for breakfast. That's not the first impression you want to make on my mother, is it?"

"You—you want me to go with you for Christmas with your family?" Lavender's expression was puzzled.

George reluctantly rolled off her and tugged her from the bed to stand before him. He groaned as he pulled her naked body against him. "If Charlie eats the last piece of bacon before we get there, I'm never going to forgive you. Get moving," George said, smacking her on the bottom playfully. "There's coffee brewing, if you want some. I'll be in the kitchen, 'cause if I stay in here much longer, we won't make it to the Burrow before supper." He turned back once more before closing the door and found that Lavender was standing in the room with a stunned look on her face. "If you're not ready in ten minutes, I'm taking you like that, and you can explain it to my family." George chuckled when Lavender began to frantically run around the room in search of clothing.

* * *

George was in the kitchen finishing his coffee when Lavender came in wearing a pair of denims and a light green jumper. "I have no idea what I'm supposed to wear."

"You look great." He noted that the scarf was missing and she'd pulled back her hair so that her scars were visible.

"You can wear it, if you want," George said, pulling her close and tracing his finger down a scar.

She shook her head and he felt her hold on him tighten. "No, I meant what I said last night. It's time to move forward. The scars are a part of me, and I'm not hiding who I am anymore."

"I'm never getting my bottle back, am I?" he teased. George pressed a kiss to her forehead pulled his wand from his back pocket. "Are you ready?"

"Ready as I'm ever going to be."

* * *

They appeared in the kitchen of the Burrow where his family sat around the table eating breakfast together. His mother looked shocked when she saw Lavender at his side, and she stopped in her progress toward the table with a plate of bacon.

Harry looked at him and smiled. "I'll go get another chair." He tipped his head at Lavender and his smile brightened. "Mornin', Lavender."

George looked over at his place at the table and the empty chair beside it. "No, that's okay, Harry. Fred's seat's empty. It's time someone sat in it. Everyone, this is Lavender Brown. She's going to be taking Fred's seat at the table and Ron's job at the shop."

"What?" Ron said through a mouthful of toast.

"Hush. Don't talk with your mouth full, Ronald," Mum said. She patted Lavender on the shoulder. "We're so glad to have you join us, dear."

Lavender was holding on to George's hand and he felt her grip tighten. He led her to Fred's old chair and pulled it out for her, taking his own seat beside her. George slid his hand beneath the table and squeezed her thigh. Lavender leaned close to him and whispered, "Are you sure you're okay with me sitting in Fred's chair?"

George whispered back. "It's just a chair. I think it's time we both moved forward. You took off the scarf. It was my turn to take a step." He draped his arm over the back of her chair and kissed her on the head.

George looked up and his mother's eyes were glistening. She smiled at him and nodded her approval, then hastily brushed away her tears and clapped her hands together. "Charlie Weasley, if you don't share some of that bacon, I'm going to cuff you on the ear!"

Charlie protested. "Mum, I'm a growing boy. Just look at me," Charlie said, doing his best to look pitiful. "I'm wasting away to nothing over there in Romania. That's what happens when I'm away from your cooking. There's no one over there to take care of me like you do, Mum." Charlie turned his most charming smile on his mother and she melted.

"Oh, well I guess I can make some more."

George watched as his mother hurried back to the stove, and he noted a wistful look cross Lavender's face as she watched his family.

Bill broke the tension by smacking Charlie on the back of the head. "You want her to cut your food for you too, you big mummy's boy?"

Everyone laughed and Christmas Day at the Burrow began…


End file.
